


Little White Lie

by dweeblet



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Adult Dipper Pines, Adult Mabel Pines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Wizards, Bad Decisions, Bill Cipher is a Jerk, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Misunderstandings, Not Canon Compliant, Past Billdip, Recovery, Unrequited Hate, artist!Mabel, magic!Dipper, spoiler alert: it was a bad idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dweeblet/pseuds/dweeblet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fresh out of Harvard, Dipper Pines returns to the Mystery Shack for a nice, relaxing summer before setting out into the great unknown. The future is hopeful only so long as he can come to terms with the mistakes of the past. The process will be difficult and painful, but with the help of his family, he knows he can do it. He will do it, he really will.</p><p>Eventually.</p><p>A little white lie- lying by omission, really- won't hurt anyone. </p><p>Probably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mick had been watching this stranger for what felt like hours now. He had rolled into town on a sputtering Jackrabbit bus with only an unassuming light hoodie and a frayed green backpack, but as soon as he'd entered the town border, she could sense it. From her spot leaning against the bus stop's bench, she felt his presence and found her heart sinking in dread.    
  
Practitioners of magic were naturally inclined to the auras of others, and this man's positively reeked. Metallic cold and uneasy hunger rolled off him in waves, suppressed beneath a thin layer of bitterly bruised restraint. It was a cocktail of sensations that even a novice practitioner could identify immediately: the presence of a warlock.   
  
This man was a powerful one, to boot. His aura was saturated in forbidden magic, and upon pressing her Sight further, Mick could see his soul flicker behind his ribs as he took a cellphone from his hoodie pocket. It bristled with hungry tongues of cerulean flame and was streaked with a venomous brickwork of crumbling gold like a second skin, bruised black and blue from abuse and exposure. On his forehead, an outline flickered in stark goldenrod; a third eye, blinking and searching his surroundings. It came to rest on her and narrowed dangerously.   
  
She pulled her Sight back and let her gleaming silver eyes become black again, noticing the man in question's own gaze roving over her, the dial pad on his phone's display forgotten entirely. He blinked, cocking his head quizzically to one side and taking a step away from the curb, towards the stop. Mickey reeled, falling flat on her butt on the pavement. No one was around, just he and her, so she gathered magical power in her palms should conflict arise.   
  
In her best interests, she sized up the potential opponent; aside from ridiculous levels of demonic power roiling in his aura, he was likely near six feet tall, but lanky judging by the way his baggy clothes hung from his frame. Despite his thinness, however, lean muscle coiled in scarred arms suggested impressive strength. In contrast with the cold, hard gaze of his spiritual third eye, his real ones, though a bit sunken, twinkled with warmth and amusement.   
  
"It's rude to stare," he commented. (His voice hit Mickey like a truck, a light, reedy tenor that offset his scruffy face and shaggy hair.) There was a long moment of continued staring before the man smirked at her, offering a callused hand to help her up. "Can't say I'm not flattered you think I'm so interesting, though."   
  
Mickey couldn't stop the rosy heat that rose to her cheeks, though she indignantly denied his proffered helping hand, stumbling back up on her own. He quirked an eyebrow at her in response, but shrugged as though to say "suit yourself," and turned his attention back to the phone in his hand. His dark eyes flitted up and down over the display as he scrolled through his contacts.   
  
(Mick was actually surprised to see some fairly common ones; the number of some school, 'Dad' and 'Mom’ flashing by on screen as he flicked the list down, but some were more peculiar. His thumb hovered over 'Star,' where it rested below 'Fez' and 'Ghost' but above 'Sickle.')   
  
The warlock's dark eyes moved back up to Mickey, this time glinting with irritation. "Can you not?" He asked, an edge creeping into his voice. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but unless my social skills are rustier than I thought, I recall it being rude to stare."   
  
"What?" Mick blurted out on autopilot, knowing right away that was the wrong thing to say as he stiffened.   
  
The man's joking smirk turned down into a loose frown. "I'm sorry, did I stutter?" He crossed his arms defensively, dimming his phone's display and stuffing it back into his pocket, where his hand lingered and Mickey feared he might pull out something a lot more dangerous. When Mick didn't move, his irritation seemed to become something more akin to concern. "You, uh, alright there?"   
  
"Yes, I'm fine!" Mickey snapped, and the warlock stepped back again, hands raised in a universal gesture of placation. The girl wiped the dust from her leggings, shoving past the man and stalking away. "Just leave me alone."   
  
He just stood there, blinking dumbly at her as she disappeared into the bushes beyond the sidewalk. His expression twitched with thinly veiled confusion before wiping clean. The warlock shrugged his thin shoulders, turning back down to his phone as he selected his contact and put it up against his ear.   
  
A woman’s voice burst from the phone's speaker, and the man reeled, hissing through his teeth. He paused, holding the device away from himself until the excited squealing died away. (Mick was just glad it was boisterous enough to hear from her hiding place.) He put the phone a little closer once she was done, filling the pause with an airy hum."Are you… town?"

  
"Yup!" He exclaimed, an earnest grin stealing across his face as he popped the 'p' and leaned intently into the speaker as the woman on the other end of the line chattered excitedly about inane things like supermarket jobs and pet pigs and goats and girlfriends.    
  
The warlock's pasty cheeks lit up with a muted blush, slender fingers spread awkwardly over his face as though to hide his embarrassment. "I don't believe you," he hissed in mock hurt, a giggle bubbling up from his throat (much to Mick's surprise.) The woman said something else and the man nodded. "I'll be right over." Her turn to speak, then a pause. "Yeah, some lady at the bus stop." Mick held her breath in the bushes.   
  
Another burst of chatter from the other end, a pause, followed by an indignant snort. "Will you try and set me up with every person I ever talk to?" A suspiciously affirmative sound from the phone drew a long groan from the man, but he said goodbye and blew a kiss into the microphone. He stuffed the phone back into his hoodie, putting one hand in his faded jeans pocket and the other curled on the strap of his backpack as he shrugged it into a more comfortable position, shuffling away from the bus stop.   
  
Mickey followed him, creeping through the bushes along the walk with magic bubbling on her fingertips, just in case. He scatted along to some lighthearted tune only he could hear, drumming his fingers on his thigh, seemingly oblivious to the girl stalking him from the side of the road. His canvas sneakers kicked up dust as his pace sped to a light dogtrot, and she could see cerulean sparks dance on his fingertips, not yet a flame, but a display of power enough for even a novice to take as a clear warning.

 

(A warning she had no intention of heeding.)

  
  


If a warlock as strong as this one seemed to be was loose in Gravity Falls, the local community needed to know about it, and soon. Warlocks were all kinds of trouble, very rarely dabbling in mere mischief. They nearly always had master plans up their sleeves like some kind of supervillain bent on world domination; even if the world wasn’t their goal, devouring the souls of fellow magic users (and more importantly, fellow humans!) in order to absorb their power was still bad enough, not to mention if they brought the attention of a demon to the area.

 

She followed him down the dirt path even as it became gravel, then pavement as they entered the central part of town. He sidled down the sidewalk like he owned the place, dipping his head to some passerby who seemed to know him, quietly thanking people for their muttered “welcome back’s” and rolling his eyes at their dismayed “not this guy again’s”.

 

Mickey just skirted him, ducking behind dumpsters and swimming in the crowd to stay out of sight as he crossed the town. The warlock must have been up to something, but she couldn't quite tell what. By the looks of things, she couldn't even get him detained, either; the town was small, and while some seemed mildly irritated at his arrival, most seemed to be pleased to see him, even overjoyed. The slack-eyed woman who ran Greasy’s Diner gushed about how he’d grown and what a ladies man he was until her chubby face was purple, and the local police tipped their hats in respect.

 

He had the people of this town wrapped around his goddamn finger and there was nothing she could do about it. Only few could See his true nature, and who would believe them? It was hard enough already to convince indifferent people of a Seer’s observations, let alone those who seemed to love the man so.

 

That being the case, she just followed him across the remainder of town, careful to keep out of sight. He was perceptive. Despite her sneaky approach, his dark eyes darted to her general area from time to time when she moved, each glance sending her heart leaping up to her throat, like a miniature stroke as she feared she’d been spotted, but he always seemed to shrug it off and continue on his way. Mickey was just thankful he didn’t pay it any mind and neglected to truly notice her presence.

 

Seeing the man sidle up to a dilapidated-looking cabin at the edge of the woods wasn’t terribly surprising; warlocks were known for preferring dark, secluded places that best catered to their deteriorating humanity. However, warlocks’ hideouts didn’t tend to have neon pink pickup trucks parked haphazardly on the side of the road leading up to them. Nor did they tend to have gaudy billboards propped against the roof reading ‘Mystery hack.’ (The ‘S’ had fallen onto the lawn and was currently being gnawed on by a brown and grey piebald goat.)

 

The warlock put his hands on his slender hips and sucked in a deep breath of pine air, giving a sigh as the goat looked up at him with its dumb yellow eyes and bleated. It ambled over and started chewing on the man’s loosely tied shoelaces. Mickey expected the warlock to kick it away (or slit its throat for sacrifice) or make any act of hostility or disdain towards the animal (warlocks were prideful creatures, after all.) But he did no such thing.

 

“Good to see you too, Gompers,” he crooned, crouching down and rubbing the goat’s head behind its one unbroken horn. It bleated again, softer this time, and nuzzled the man’s calf in appreciation before wandering back to where a garbage bin had been upturned near the porch, finding an empty, crushed can of Pitt cola and munching it with gusto.

 

The warlock grinned like a Cheshire cat as the side door to the cabin slammed open. A girl burst from inside, clad in a deep purple sweater covered in sequins and prints of cats despite the summer warmth, and flung herself down the stairs at the man. He caught her with practiced ease, lifting her over his head and swinging her around in circles before setting her down, breathless. They started to chatter excitedly, and she noticed that the girl’s voice was the same as the woman the warlock had been talking to on the phone.

 

Mickey couldn't catch the finer points of the conversation, but the two seemed to tease one another, comparing height among other useless guff punctuated by light laughter and earnest grins. The girl punched him in the shoulder, and Mick couldn’t help but take notice from her spot in the undergrowth on the path that they looked quite similar. The female of the duo had paler eyes and lightly tanned skin dotted with freckles as opposed to the warlock’s dark-eyed pallor, but their faces were similarly shaped.

  
(If she had to guess, Mickey would have said they were twins.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something brief because writer's block. ive been attempting to lengthen my chapters for sacorum but i dunno if it'll pan out??

The warlock said something to the girl, smirking. She snorted in reply and Mick strained her hearing to catch her response. “But don’t… just yet; tell me… college… Boston!”

 

Mickey wanted to be sick; the girl had no idea what kind of monster the warlock was, likely having devoured the soul and stolen the body of the young man she thought she was speaking to. Undoubtedly, none of these presumed family members in the cabin did; they thought he was going to  _ college _ , not bleeding animals for his demonry in some darkened alley or dingy basement. If they could See his true nature the way the practitioner did, they would have gone out of their way to destroy him or at the very least run for the hills by now. She would just have to unveil his plots herself, or warn them, or threaten him, or anything, really. Mickey didn’t think of herself as being a particularly good person, but she’d be damned if she let a monster like that have his way with innocent people.

 

Even as she had those thoughts, the two just kept on talking, full of friendly teasing and plans for the future, Mick only found herself even more disgusted with how such a creature dared lead an innocent girl on like that.

 

She shifted in place in an attempt to ease the discomfort growing in her stiffening legs as she continued to crouch, freezing as a twig snapped- a resonating sound in the hush of the woods- under her shoe. The demonic puppet of a man’s brown eyes immediately found their way to her own, glinting with something warning and almost possessive.

 

He stiffened suddenly, an edge of something dark in his gaze that wasn’t there before. Mickey wasn’t sure whether she should have been glad that he was showing his true colors, or terrified that he now meant business.

 

The girl seemed to sense this change in his demeanor as he stared, glassy-eyed, into the underbrush, searching for any signs of life. “Everything okay?”

 

The warlock seemed to be broken from a trance, snapping to attention as his gaze returned to its former sharp-edged focus. “Yeah,” he assured her, sight lingering on the tree line before he turned back to the girl. “Let's go…  inside… drinks… talk. It's warm out… I could… a beer.”

 

The girl nodded agreeably, turning on her heel and skipping inside even as the man, the  _ monster _ lingered on the porch. His eyes met hers and Mickey froze. The liquid brown of his irises shimmered a brief, icy blue, pupils contracting into wicked pinpricks as he curled his lip, gaze still trained on her. He could See her soul, eyes gleaming hungrily as he stared, then looked back up to meet her gaze.

 

_ Get away from me _ , his eyes said. As much as she hated it, Mickey knew she had no choice but to comply. She stood up from her crouched position in the bushes, hissing as branches scratched her legs and caught on her clothes, and backed away slowly. She made sure to keep her hands up where he could see them, and to move slowly. 

 

(As far as Mickey was concerned, this man was as likely to snap at her as a rabid dog. Best to err on the side of caution.)

  
She got away from them, just as asked, but Mickey had no plans to  _ stay _ away, however.


End file.
